Customer Service
by NeoVenus22
Summary: Another Work Bench day, another Work Bench dollar. Season 1.


Disclaimer: No one mentioned belongs to me. Takes place early in the first season.

* * *

"Excuse me."

The low-toned request came from the vicinity of her butt. Andi wondered what it was about the particular patronage of the Work Bench that made them seek her help only when she was on a ladder. She pasted on a smile, knowing full well they wouldn't be looking at her face anyway, and hoisted herself down.

"Can I help you?"

The customer grinned widely. "You sure can."

Something about him seemed familiar to Andi. He was tanned and leathery, early Robert Redford but not yet George Hamilton. He seemed kind of worldly, actually, the weird vibe she was getting from him. Maybe it was the suit. Maybe it was the suit with the handkerchief in the breast pocket. It was a far cry from the usual Friday flannel crowd.

"I need a new chainsaw chain. 0.05 inch gauge, preferably. Oh, and I guess some more chain oil while I'm at it," he added with a sheepish sort of smile.

It was funny how you could tell so much about a person and their habits by what they bought at the hardware store, Andi mused. Normally it was pretty easy: that couple over with Ellen was going to spend the weekend arguing what color to paint the den; the kid with Sock was going to spend it trying to fix the dent he'd plowed in his parents' garage door with his Taurus (and was going to do it horribly, horribly wrong, judging by Sock's extreme frustration and generously flailing arms). Andi was a bit flummoxed by this polite man in a nice suit, trying to imagine him spending his days with a chainsaw, sawdust scattered over his lapels.

"Sure thing," said Andi. "Right in the back here."

She glanced back at him over her shoulder as she took him to the back aisle where they kept all the Jason Voorhees-type stuff, a place Sock had taken to calling the Lovely Room of Death. (He'd also taken to sending customers on their merry way with, "Shop smart. Shop S-Mart!") The guy seemed... familiar. Had she seen him before? It seemed unlikely he was a Bench regular; she'd remember a smiley guy in a three-piece suit. Still...

"Here we go," she said, sweeping her hand ceremoniously at the shelves. "Do you know what pitch you're looking for, or do you need some help?"

"I think I'm all set," he said cheerfully. "Refreshing to see a girl who knows her stuff."

Andi couldn't decide if she was supposed to be insulted or not. She couldn't even really tell if he was condescending or not. The customer just continued cheerfully, eying the products without a care, "The staff here is always so pleasant, you know? Ready to bend over backwards to do your bidding. I always appreciate a solid work ethic."

Andi wondered what store he'd been visiting recently.

"Well, we take customer service seriously."

"You do. Say, you know who's always really helpful? That boy... what's his name... Sam. Do you know him?"

"Yeah, Sam's a good guy."

"That he is." The customer grinned. "I'll tell you what, you keep an eye on him. That Sam is going to go places."

She had nothing to say to that.

"Well, thanks for all your help..."

"Andi," she supplied, without thinking.

He beamed. "Andi. It was nice meeting you."

"Um, thanks."

Another satisfied customer headed towards the registers. Andi took a moment to herself, alone in the aisle amidst horror movie props, when she spotted something white on the ground. She tried to decide if she should incur Ted's wrath and just leave it, but she was pretty sure it hadn't been there before. She scooped it up and found it was a neat square of cloth. A handkerchief. The one from the guy's suit. She hadn't even seen it fall.

"Oh! Sir?" He turned, she waved the handkerchief at him. "You dropped this."

He grinned at her, as if she'd just said exactly what he wanted her to say. It was sort of creepy, if she was being honest.

"You know what? Why don't you give that to Sam when he comes in."

That made no sense. "Sam?"

"Yeah. He'll know what it's for."

Andi really had no answer for that. The whole exchange had taken a turn for the weird. "Um. Okay."

The man looked satisfied. "I'll see you around, Andi."

Bemused, Andi watched him go. Something about the guy niggled at her brain, made her vaguely uneasy in a way she couldn't understand. He was pleasant, polite, cheerful. She felt like she could trust him, odd as it sounded. He just seemed very nice. And yet...

She glanced down at the handkerchief she'd been unconsciously balling in her hand, and unfolded it. Embroidered in the corner were the initials R.M. And there was an odd stain, brown, like... she frowned. Was that blood? What on earth would Sam be doing with a bloodstained, monogrammed handkerchief?

"Well, how am I expected to use a saucepan? Just bean him on the head and hope it turns him into gas?"

Looked like she was going to get her answer. That sounded like Sam, one aisle over. He was standing in huddled conference with Ben and Sock.

"Then you can just scoop him up," said Ben.

"Well, it doesn't matter, since I can't seem to find him anyway."

"Hey, guys," she said, trying not to notice the way they all looked up guiltily.

"Hey, Andi."

"Sam, I was just looking for you."

Andi used to get it all the time when she said hi to him, the hopeful half-smile. Nowadays, Sam just looked sort of tired and wary. She wondered what in the hell was going on with him.

"Yeah? What's up?"

She passed him the handkerchief.

"Dude, I think she's challenging you to a duel," said Sock.

"No, that's if she hands him a glove," corrected Ben. "Or hits him with it."

"What is it?" asked Sam, taking it and opening it.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "A customer told me to give it to you."

Sam squinted at the monogrammed corner. "R.M..." he read, then looked at Ben, sort of pale. "R.M.?"

"Not R. Mitchum..." said Ben.

"Dude, is that blood?" said Sock.

Sam looked ill. "Andi, where did you say you got this?"

"Some guy in a suit gave it to me and said it was yours. That you'd know what it was for."

His thumb stalled on the embroidery. "A guy in a suit?"

"Yeah. A customer. I think he's been here before. He wanted something from the Lovely Room of Death." Andi looked to Sock, expecting him to be pleased she was using the nickname he'd bestowed. Instead, his eyes were on Ben, the both of them wearing the same worried face.

"Andi, this is important. When was he here?"

She shrugged. "Five minutes ago. He's probably still at the registers."

"I gotta go," Sam mumbled in a hurry, taking off for the front of the store with a stained handkerchief clutched in his fist.

"Okay, what was that all about?" she asked the remaining Musketeers.

"That was, uh, Sam's dad," covered Ben.

Andi rolled her eyes at the cheap ploy. "Come on. I've met Sam's dad. That wasn't him."

"Of course not," said Sock. "Don't be ridiculous, Andi. Sam's dad..." He laughed weakly. "No, that was Sam's... uncle... Jer... ry. Jerry. Gerard, actually, but he insists everyone call him Jerry... We call him Crazy Uncle Jerry. Not to his face, of course. Bit of a recluse. Very weird, very socially awkward. What was he buying?"

"A new chain."

"For a bicycle?" said Sock hopefully.

From a place referred to as the Lovely Room of Death? "For a chainsaw."

Sock and Ben glanced at each other again, somewhat sickly. "Oh, that's not creepy at all," said Ben.

"Maybe he likes to cut... wood."

"Guys?" Andi snapped her fingers to get their attention. "What's creepy? What's going on?"

"Oh, you know, nothing," said Sock. "Crazy Uncle Jerry's wife was a, um, a logger. A female... logger. Is that the word, Benjamin? Lady logger? Anyway, tragic accident during the tryouts for the national logging finals..."

"How come I've never heard about this?" asked Andi suspiciously, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It's such a tragic point in Sam's family history, he doesn't like to talk about it. In fact, you should probably never mention to Sam that we had this conversation."

Sock smiled with satisfaction. Next to him, Ben was nodding vehemently. Andi sighed. "Okay, guys. If you want to be idiots, whatever. I'm going on break."

"Not a word to Sam!" Sock called after her. "Tragic logging family history, he doesn't want anyone to know! Kickback is a mistake you only make once!"

Andi rolled her eyes again, a gesture often repeated in the company of her weird-ass friends. Something was seriously up with the three of them. She wished they trusted her enough to let her know what. Then again, there were some times, and some things, she was pretty sure she was better off not knowing.


End file.
